


Always, Princess

by unabashedcandymaker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive boyfriend, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Dean - Freeform, Dean Winchester - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Reader Insert, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Supernatural Reader insert, always princess, drunk boyfriend, reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 00:45:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5562271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unabashedcandymaker/pseuds/unabashedcandymaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reader Insert.  You and Dean are neighbors in an apartment complex.  He listens night after night as your drunk boyfriend screams and crashes through your apartment, pining over you.  One night, things come to a head when he sees you crying outside of your apartment.  Ends in fluff!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always, Princess

You were sitting in front of the door of your apartment when Dean came up the stairs. Your eyes were red rimmed and puffy from crying. You sniffled and wiped at your eyes as the sobs continued to rock through your body. It was obvious you hadn’t heard him approach or you wouldn’t have let anyone see you so upset.

He backed down a couple stairs until you were out of sight. He counted to five before coming up the stairs again only a little louder this time so you’d definitely hear him. He rounded the corner in time to see you wipe at your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater and look down at the floor, effectively hiding your face behind your hair.

“How’s it going, Y/N?” Dean tried to sound casual; as if he hadn’t just seen you sobbing on your door step.

“Oh you know, the usual wild and crazy Saturday night.” You quipped, your voice only breaking slightly as you tried to pull yourself together. “What about you, Winchester? How come you aren’t out partying the night away with that pretty little blonde I saw leaving your place yesterday morning?” Your face was still hidden as he looked towards you.

Dean stopped beside you and slid down the wall, taking a seat next to you, his arm brushing against yours. He didn’t miss it when he felt you sigh, like his touch sent a wave through you, then slightly lean into him before moving your head to rest on his shoulder softly.

“So you saw that huh?” He dipped his head down this time, slightly embarrassed that you’d caught him with one of his one-night-stands. 

“I passed her as I was coming home from pulling a double shift at the hospital. She nearly plowed me over me trying to run down the stairs.” You chuckled once, shaking Dean’s shoulder gently. He smiled down at you which you didn’t see before he rested his cheek on the top of your head.

Dean laughed silently. He heard a loud thud from inside your apartment and his laughter immediately faded. This explained everything now. Your drunken asshole boyfriend, Doug, must be drunk off his ass again. Being your next door neighbor, he heard screaming and cussing and crashes and items breaking more often than he liked. Every single time it took everything he had in him not to go bursting through your door and putting that dick hole in his place. 

But Dean never did. He would sit and listen for hours until the excitement died down. It was then he would sit outside his door, waiting for you to emerge from the chaos. Sometimes he would see shadows of small bruises on your face or wrists or arms. It went against every instinct in his body, but you always assured him that you knew how to take care of yourself. And Dean would never want you to think that he thought you couldn’t handle your own. 

But he always felt a pit deep in his gut when he could hear Doug having another drunken tantrum. He wanted to play hero to your damsel in distress. He wanted to rescue you from this mess, from the drama, from the pain. He wanted to take care of you, to support you, laugh with you, love you…

Another loud crash and shattering glass made you slightly jump against him. 

“I see someone is celebrating hard tonight.” Dean grumbled out, trying not to sound as upset or frustrated as he felt. 

“It’s been a very rough day. He came home drunk.” Your voice was soft and quiet. You sighed against him and readjusted your head, pushing hair out of your face. Dean looked down at your face. When he saw the large, nasty blotches of a fresh bruise forming around your left eye he had to fight the urge to be sick. Who in their right mind could mare such beauty?

Dean felt hot, like his blood was boiling under his skin. He would never understand why you, so sweet and beautiful and kind and compassionate, stayed with the obnoxious, alcoholic, abusive prick. But it wasn’t his place to understand. All he could do is offer you help or a shoulder to cry on when you needed it. Hopefully one day, you’d see that you deserved better. And Dean planned on being there, always waiting, hoping that one day you’d choose him over Doug.

This was dangerous thinking. Dean had no chance with you. He’d only been in love with you since the day you moved in 4 years ago. You were carrying boxes up the stairs and into your new apartment when he first saw you. You had The Eagles Greatest Hits blaring through your speakers as you hauled box after box up the stairs. A couple times he swore you could hear singing along; almost as if you enjoyed hauling heavy loads up the stairs by yourself. He would never forget the way stray tendrils of your hair fell out of a messy bun down into your face, the way your cheeks were flushed and the shiny glow from the light layer of sweat covering your skin. 

He’d soon introduced himself, enchanted by your gorgeous smile. He bought pizza and a case of beer to celebrate your moving in day. After many nights watching movies and sharing pizza and beer together, the two of you were best of friends.

“Are you happy, Y/N?” Dean asked quietly, unsure if you would be willing to talk about such a sensitive topic.

You didn’t answer him. At least not right away. Your response was a small huff and then a sigh. He could feel you melting further into him. Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke again.

“It wasn’t always like this. He used to be charming and at least half-way decent.” You spoke thoughtfully, carefully choosing every word. You wrapped your arm through his and held on tighter, as if you felt safer the closer you were pressed against him. Dean pulled his arm away maneuvered himself so it was now wrapped around your shoulder, your head now resting against his chest as you wrapped your arm around his chest, each holding onto the other.

There was another loud thump and the shattering of more glass as the man behind the door started calling your name. Dean felt you shutter against him and he pulled you to his body just a little tighter.

“Y/N” A slurred voice mumbled somewhere inside your apartment. “Y/N!” It called louder.

“I guess I better go…” You started to pull away from him and his stomach dropped.

Instead of letting you go, he kept his arm wrapped firmly around you. “You don’t have to.”

“What?” You asked, clearly surprised. You were looking at him, confused.

“Don’t go. He won’t know the difference. Come stay with me tonight.” Dean could feel his heart beating out of his chest, threatening to explode. “C’mon, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve slept in my bed.” He added, trying to joke and make light of the situation. He smiled as he remembered the night you both drank too much and you’d passed out in his bed while he slept in the floor of the living room, too out of it to make it to the couch.

You looked thoughtfully at him, considering his impromptu offer. It felt like hours instead of seconds as he waited anxiously for your answer. 

“Well, I usually require someone buy me dinner before I go home with them, but I think I’m going to make an exception this time.” You smiled widely at him before throwing him a wink with your uninjured eye.

Dean was so full of relief he could have burst and sighed thankfully. At least tonight he knew you’d be safe and close. He smiled back, looking you full in the face. The bruise on your face was getting darker by the minute. His smile faded from happy to sad before he whipped his head down to look at the watch on his wrist, hoping you wouldn’t have seen his reaction. “You know I could still feed you. It’s not too late to order pizza. And I’ve still got the rest of that case of beer left over from last week. Unless you’d rather go somewhere…”

“Pizza and beer would be wonderful. I wouldn’t expect anything different from you, Winchester.” You had started to stand before Dean jumped up and held both his hands out for you and pulled you up to your feet. You wove your arm through his as he led you just a couple feet away from your door to his. 

After two large pizzas were mostly devoured and a 12 pack of beer consumed, the two of you were laughing easily and enjoying each other’s’ company. The situation back at your apartment was completely forgotten about for the moment. Dean was watching you intently, smiling broadly as he listened to you tell stories about the goriest and most horrific things that you’ve witnessed working as a nurse in the ER. He watched your eyes shine with laughter and the dimples on your cheeks deepen as you laughed like you didn’t have a care in the world. It was easy. It was comfortable. And of course, it didn’t last. Maybe an hour had passed, maybe a little longer, when a loud banging on his door disrupted your night.

“Open up, Winchester. I know she’s in there with you!” Dean startled as his eyes shot to you. You had frozen in place, staring at the door. The banging became louder as the voice behind the door slurred his angry words.

“Oh shit, Dean. I’m so sorry. I better go.” You looked at him apologetically, almost as if you were embarrassed.

“No, Y/N, I’ll take care of this. Go to my room and lock the door.” Dean was immediately at full attention, his back straight and his chest puffed out; ready for whatever fight awaited beyond the door. 

“Winchester! I know you’re fuckin’ her. Open this damn door and face me like a man!” The door was starting to rattle on the hinges as the man behind it was slamming his body against it.

You were now staring wide-eyed at Dean, fear now starting to radiate off of you in waves. 

“Y/N,” Dean walked up to you and gently placed his hands on your shoulders. He looked you directly in the eye, his green ones blaring sincerity and compassion. “I’d rather you didn’t go home to him like this tonight. I’d very much like it if you would stay the night here. I will take care of him if you go to my bedroom and lock the door behind you. He won’t hurt you here. Do you trust me?” He searched your face for any sign of understanding.

You only stared back, tears threatening to fall. The door creaked from the force of his weight being thrown against it. Your eyes never left his. Slowly you nodded and reached up to your tip toes to kiss Dean on the cheek before turning on your heel and rushing back to his room. He didn’t turn around to the pounding behind him until he heard his bedroom door close and the click of the lock. 

“Winchester!” BANG! BANG! BANG! “You open this god damn door right now and give her to me or I will….”

Dean ripped the door open, facing the belligerent man in front of him, watching as he stumbled forward a couple steps as the solidness he had been expecting to throw his body against suddenly vanished. Dean stood a couple inches above the other man. Sure, Doug looked intimidating to others; wearing sleeveless shirts that displayed the bulging of his biceps. Dean only smirked. Nobody would guess that under his tees and flannels that he was nothing but pure, solid muscle. Dean wasn’t intimidated. 

The burly man pushed passed Dean, bumping his shoulder. “I know she’s in here Winchester. She always comes running to you when she’s upset. I know you are fucking her and after I get her home and taken care of, I’ll deal with you next.” His words were slurred and jumbled, but Dean caught every single hate filled syllable. “Tell her to come out. Go get her from wherever she is hiding. It’ll be easier if she comes without a fight.” Doug was growling at Dean, the smell of cheap vodka wafting from him like his very own personal brand of cologne.

“Listen buddy, I think you need to go home and sleep it off.” Dean tried gently urging the man to back so he could shut the door. Instead, he kept pushing forward, looking around the living room. He was whipping his head around, looking, as if he could find you hiding behind the couch. Dean followed him. “Doug, I’m going to have to insist you leave now.” 

“I can smell her perfume. I know you’re hiding her from me. Just tell me where she is and I won’t have hurt you.” His words meant to be threatening as he fumbled around the living room, ripping the cushions off the couch, throwing them across the room. 

“Yeah, man, she is here, but she’s not leaving. She is going to stay here tonight. I suggest you go home and get some rest, maybe drink some water, take some asprin. We can deal with this again tomorrow.” Dean was trying to keep his calm, but his patience was wearing thin with this obnoxious asshole.

“I’m not leaving without her. Now tell the bitch she needs to get the fuck out here right fucking now!” The man was now yelling and stumbling around the room. Dean put his hand on the man’s shoulder, hoping to guide him out of his apartment and away from you. 

Dean didn’t like having the two of you so close when this guy was obviously reckless and angry. As soon as his hand touched the man’s shoulder, Doug flung himself at Dean, throwing a fist through the air, loosely aiming at Dean’s face. Almost as if everything were happening in slow motion, Dean back stepped easily, avoiding the fist, and then sent a left hook straight for the man’s jaw.

Before Doug could fall to the floor, Dean caught the dead weight and hoisted the now unconscious man up over his shoulder. Almost effortlessly, he carried Doug out of the door and towards the apartment he shared with you. As soon as Dean entered the already open door, his stomach dropped. He deposited the drunk on the couch a little rougher than necessary before taking a look around the apartment. Shattered glass and broken furniture were scattered everywhere. The more he saw, the more nauseous he felt.

What if Doug had been less belligerent and you hadn’t been able to slip out? What if Dean hadn’t invited you over? Would you have been a part of this broken mess in the floor? Would he have come home to find police tape and your body broken and bloody on the floor? How on earth couldn’t you see that you deserved so much better than this. He could give you better than this. He would love you and he would take care of you and he would love you….

Stop it, Dean! That’s not going to help anything. You are his friend. Only his friend.

Dean tried to shrug off the nerves, the guilt; he tried to brush off every ill feeling as he turned around and strode back towards his apartment. It wasn’t until he was back inside, the door shut and the dead bolt locked that he could feel his body starting to relax again. He made his way back towards his bedroom where he knew you were waiting. He knocked softly, calling your name out softly before you slowly opened the door, peeking to make sure it was him before you launched yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. Without hesitation, he wrapped both his arms tight around your waist, pulling you close to him.

He couldn’t describe the sensation of holding your body so close to his. He wrapped his arms tighter around you, silently offering you comfort and protection and security. Both your bodies began to completely melt into each other. There was a sudden surge of electricity between you, something that made holding you feel so right and perfect to Dean. It wasn’t until he felt his shirt dampen with warm tears that he pulled away slightly to get a better look at you.

“Everything’s going to be ok, princess.” He offered. You smiled at his nickname for you, the tears slowly starting to recede.

“Dean Winchester, my knight in shining armor. Every girl should have a man like you in her life.” You sighed softly as he wiped stray tears from your cheeks.

Dean could only smile as he pulled you back into him, cradling the back of your head as his fingers stroked your hair soothingly. “Always, princess.” And it was absolutely true. He would always be whatever you needed him to be. You wouldn’t even have to ask. He prayed silently that you knew that.

It was a long couple minutes, the two of you just standing there, only feeling each other breathe; your head following the expanse and decrease of his chest. Dean wished it would last forever, but it wasn’t long enough before he felt you starting to gently pull away again. Reluctantly he let you go, the warmth of your skin that was against his now slowly being replaced with a deep ache and coldness.

He watched as you backed away, not looking at him as you crawled slowly into his bed and slipped under the blankets. As soon as you had gotten yourself settled and comfortable, you gestured for him to join you. He hesitated only half a second before he followed, only he laid on top of the blankets but on his side so he could face you. Before he could think of something to say, you spoke first.

“I used to love somebody exactly like you.” The words came as a shock. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t that. After letting the words settle, you continued. “He was beautiful, like you. He was strong and caring. He had green eyes, kind of like yours. They were deep and warm and inviting, but not as guarded as yours.

“His name was Isaac. He was charming and thoughtful and so very sweet; pretty much everything a girl could dream of. On our first date, he took me on a picnic in a meadow overlooking a pond. We sat for hours talking about our hopes and dreams and our plans to escape our hometown. You know what it’s like to be 17. I was so in love and when I was with Isaac, it felt like the world finally made sense. I knew right then that this would be the man I was going to marry.”

Dean watched how bright your eyes were when you spoke. He was hanging on your every word. Suddenly, you looked down, a wave of sadness radiating from you. He heard you sniffle before you could continue. “We were 19 when he died. Cancer. It came out of nowhere and stole him from me. It happened so fast…” Your words trailed off as a lone tear slid from your eye.

Dean felt a warm wetness on his face before he realized that he had shed a couple tears as well. 

“We were planning a future together. We had made all these plans and dreams that we were going to accomplish together. We were supposed to get married, buy a house, and have lots of beautiful little babies. Then, like some cruel joke, he was ripped from me, for no reason. All of a sudden, I was completely alone. How was I supposed to carry on with everything we were supposed to be doing together? So I dropped out of school, moved across the country and started a brand new life.”

Without saying a word, Dean reached out to intertwine his fingers around yours. You didn’t say anything either, just gripped back tightly against his grasp. 

“I moved around a lot after that. I made a lot of bad friends, got into a lot of trouble, started doing a lot of bad things. And the guys I started seeing…they make Doug look like Mother Theresa. After lots of drugs and alcohol and drama which would end in a nasty breakup, I’d run. It was a very long game of pretend that involved lots of hair dye, new clothes, and tattoos of birthmarks. It’s actually how I ended up here. I was running.”

 

You smiled up at Dean. “I was serious when I said you remind me of Isaac. Sometimes, when I look in your eyes, it’s almost as if I can see him staring back at me. It’s the way you look at me, how you listen when I talk, the way you are with other people. You are so compassionate and caring and gentle. And the way you love everyone…” you cut yourself off suddenly, eyes going wide. “Dean, I’m sorry.” You ducked your head down quickly. “You have done so much for me already. You don’t need all my baggage on top of it.”

“Y/N, stop it.” Dean spoke gently as his hand moved from yours to cup your face, pulling your gaze back to his. “I need to hear everything. Anything you need, ever, you need to tell me. I’m always going to be here if you need to talk. You know I can be a very good listener. Or I can just keep continuing to be a bodyguard against drunk assholes.” He chuckled as he watched you smile over the last thing he said.  
Your hand reached out to stroke his cheek. Dean dropped his hand and closed his eyes at your touch. He reveled at how soft your hands were against the roughness of his stubble.

You continued to speak quietly, but with conviction this time. “I know how everyone looks at me. I know people pity me or think I’m foolish for putting myself in situations like this; for dating the kind of guys I do. I feel their silent judgement at my stupidity. But for me, it’s easier. They are already broken in some way and there’s something so attractive about it. It’s almost as if I can focus on putting them back together instead of worrying over how broken I am. It’s so much easier to feel the physical pain than to experience that kind of heartache and loss like I did with Isaac.”

Your hand fell from his face as you pulled it tightly into your own chest. Dean reached out for you, pulling you into him as you closed your eyes. He felt you exhale slowly, obviously finding comfort being wrapped up in him.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You mumbled into his shirt.

“Of course.” Dean didn’t hesitate.

“Would you stay here with me? I don’t know if I can stand to be alone tonight.” Your voice was timid and shaky.

Dean only wrapped his arms around you tighter before answering. “Always, Princess.”

He felt you relax further into him, nuzzling your head under his chin, your hands fisting in his shirt, making sure he couldn’t escape from you. Not that he would ever dream of being anywhere other than here; tangled up around you. The two of you lay silently for a long time. Dean was nearly convinced you had fallen asleep before your quiet voice startled him.

“I’m scared.”

He didn’t have to ask what you were afraid of. He knew better than anyone what scared you. He knew better than anyone how you felt. He thinks you know this about him. Dean had always been more open and talkative about his past than you were. You sat and listened as his loose drunk lips would tell stories of his past. 

Dean had spent most of his adult life running too. In fact, if it hadn’t been for his little brother, Sammy, he wouldn’t be here today. After the tragic death of their mother when they were children and then the sudden death of their father when they were barely out of their teens, Dean would have lost his mind. It was essentially the same kind of pain you were feeling. So when you said you were scared, he knew exactly what you meant. He was scared to. And he knew that it was always easier to run than to face your fears head on.

He let the comfortable silence settle a little longer before he spoke again, carefully and gently. “Sometimes it’s good to be scared. Because it means you still have something worth loosing.” It was something he remembered his mom saying to him.

Another stretch of easy silence before you spoke again. 

“Does it ever scare you? How damaged we are?”

Dean chuckled this time. “All the time.”

“You have always been there for me.” It wasn’t a question. He waited to see where you were going with this. “Why?”

“Because I loved someone like you once too.” And it was true. Your kind, caring, gentle spirit reminded him of everything he could remember about his mom. It was how you were always quick to smile and laugh, your easy going personality, the compassion you showed towards everyone you met. 

You pulled away from his chest and looked into Dean’s eyes. Your eyes looked so sad. “Do you think you could ever be happy with someone as broken as me?” 

Dean saw how broken and exposed you felt. He could almost see how vulnerable and open you were just by asking. If he looked close enough, he thinks he could see all the way into your warm and beautiful soul. You weren’t nearly as broken and damaged as you thought you were.

Instead of saying anything, he leaned forward ever so slowly and kissed your lips ever so softly. Nothing made sense and he wasn’t sure what the future held for the two of you, but he was more than ready to share it with you.


End file.
